AT PEMBRIDGE TERRACE.
While these inquiries about her flight were going on, May Churchill was
safely sheltered in the home John Temple had provided for her in town.
This she found to be an extremely comfortable one, and the two ladies
of the establishment the most amiable of women.
May had arrived at King's Cross terminus nervous, yet determined. She
had left a home where she was no longer happy, and she was going to be
married to the man she loved. What matter was it, she told herself,
that for the present this marriage had to be a secret one? She had a
perfect trust in John Temple, and she knew he would never deceive her.
She easily got her small belongings collected, and then directed the
cab driver to convey her to the address in Bayswater that John Temple
had given her. She found herself there before she expected, and after
the cabman had rung the doorbell it was quickly opened, and no less
than four people appeared to welcome her. A servant first; behind, two
middle-aged ladies; and behind the middle-aged ladies, a tall young man.
This young man, however, hurried to the front, opened the cab door, and
said, in a pleasant voice:
"Miss Churchill, I presume? My aunts are expecting you."
"Yes," gasped May, nervously. "Is this Miss Webster's house?"
"Yes, my dear, it is!" screamed one of the middle-aged ladies from the
top of the door-steps. "This is our house, mine and sister Eliza's, and
we expect you are Mr. Temple's cousin."
"Yes," faltered May.
By this time the young man had handed May out, and she was standing on
the flags, purse in hand, ready to pay the cabman.
"Never mind the cabman!" again screamed the lady from the door-steps.
"Nephew Ralph will pay him, and get in your luggage. Come in, my dear,
and welcome; any friend of Mr. Temple's is most welcome here."
May accordingly ascended the door-steps, and her hand was shaken most
warmly, first by Miss Webster, and then by Miss Eliza. They were thin,
elderly women, with pleasant faces, and were evidently pleased to see
their young guest.
"You must be tired with your long journey, and hungry, too," continued
Miss Webster. "We have a little bit of hot supper ready for you. Jane,"
this was to the servant, "tell cook to dish up the partridges, and mind
she has the plates hot. Come in, my dear--this is the dining-room--or
would you rather go upstairs and take off your hat first?"
May accepted the last offer, and was accordingly ushered into a most
comfortable bedroom, where everything was ready for her occupation.
After pointing out the hot water, and telling her to be sure to ring
for what she wanted, Miss Webster then withdrew. Upon this May bathed
her face, and let down her long hair, and in a few minutes appeared
down-stairs, looking so fresh and bright no one would have supposed
that she had just had a long journey.
The tall young man was standing on the hearth-rug as she entered the
dining-room, for a cheerful fire was burning in the grate, and he bowed
when May appeared, and offered her a chair.
"This is our nephew, Mr. Ralph Webster," said Miss Eliza, for Miss
Webster happened to be out of the room, looking after the supper. "Miss
Churchill, Mr. Webster."
Miss Eliza having accomplished this introduction to her satisfaction,
sighed softly, and looked first at May's blooming face and then at her
nephew's.
"What a handsome couple!" she was thinking, and again she sighed. By
some mischance, Miss Eliza's proper destiny had never been fulfilled.
She ought to have been one of the couple, and her whole nature
pointed in that direction. She was sentimental, tender-hearted, and
affectionate, and yet in her middle-age she was still unwedded. But
she had no jealousy of younger women. On the contrary, the suppressed
maternal instincts in her heart seemed to bloom forth when she beheld a
fair young face. She also regarded her tall nephew with something like
the affection of a mother.
But though he might be so in her eyes, Mr. Ralph Webster could not
justly be called "handsome." He had, however, an intelligent, clever
face, with marked features and dark gray penetrating eyes. His manner
was self-reliant and quick. Altogether a keen-looking man, with a face
well-suited to his profession, for he was a barrister; a hard-working
barrister, who had already accomplished a fair amount of success.
"And you have had a long journey?" he said, leaning on the back of a
chair and addressing May Churchill.
"Yes, rather," answered May, moving uneasily, for she did not know
what John Temple had said to the Websters about her home, and Ralph
Webster noticed this slight uneasiness.
"The country must be looking beautiful just now," he continued, with
his keen eyes fixed on her changing face; "this is the season of
holidays, and I am longing for mine."
"I like the autumn, too," said May.
"Well, I think I like the spring best," mildly remarked Miss Eliza; "in
the autumn one feels that the winter is so near; you should like the
spring best, too, my dear," she added, looking at May; "you, who are in
your spring-time."
"Dear sentimental Aunt Eliza!" laughed Mr. Webster. "I am sure you are
thinking of the lambkins skipping about the green fields, while I am
thinking--"
"Of what, my dear?"
"I dare hardly say--lamb in another form, I am afraid."
"Oh! Ralph," gently rebuked Miss Eliza.
But here the conversation was interrupted by the entrance of the supper
and Miss Webster. Miss Webster was the managing lady of the house, and
though only two years older than Miss Eliza, regarded her as greatly
her junior. She was more energetic and practical than the younger
sister, but their affection for each other was very strong.
"I hope you are hungry, my dear," said Miss Webster, now addressing
May. "Ralph, will you set a chair for Miss Churchill, and carve the
partridges?"
Ralph did both. He carved well, for he nearly did everything well that
he tried, and he had the good sense if he did not do a thing well soon
to leave off trying.
"One should never go on failing," he used to say, "or you get into the
way of it. If one thing doesn't succeed, another may; there should be
successful careers for us all--even for crossing-sweepers."
He, in fact, had made up his mind to succeed in life, and he knew the
way was to work hard. He spent his evenings as a rule in reading dry
books, instead of amusing himself like many of his compeers. He was
equipping himself for the legal battles he meant to fight, and was
determined to have his armor ready when it came his turn to put it on.
And he knew his turn would come. A man like this has sometimes to wait
for his chance, but as a rule he does not wait long. Sagacious eyes
mark the rising juniors, and are glad to push them on. Ralph Webster
was already by no means an unknown man in legal circles.
"He will rise, and rise high," a good judge of human nature had
predicted of him, and certainly he was doing his best to fulfill this
prophecy.
His good aunts were not a little proud of him, and he was in a way fond
of these two simple, kindly women. They were the only relatives he had
in town, and he sometimes used to stay with them, though as a rule he
lived in the Temple. He was staying with them now, and to his great
amusement had been told of the expected arrival of Mr. John Temple's
"country cousin" before May Churchill came. Now, when she had arrived,
he sat looking at her with admiration and curiosity.
"She's the prettiest girl I ever saw," he said to his aunts, after he
had lit his pipe, and May had retired for the night.
"It's a sweet face certainly," sighed Miss Eliza.
"It's more than a sweet face," answered Ralph Webster, in his energetic
way; "it's a beautiful face. What did Temple say about her to you, Aunt
Margaret, when he wrote?"
"He said she was his cousin, his young cousin, and would we take her
in, and be kind to her for a fortnight or so, when he would come up to
town to join her."
"Lucky dog!" laughed Ralph Webster.
"And," continued Miss Webster, with a sudden blush spreading over her
faded complexion, "he inclosed a check, a ridiculously large check, for
her expenses, and asked us to take her out a little to see the sights,
as she has never been in London before. It's a bad time of the year
certainly for sights; but still perhaps you will help us a little,
Ralph, to amuse her till you go on your holiday?"
"For a young woman who has never been in town there are always plenty
of 'sights,' as you call them, to be seen in London. Yes, Aunt
Margaret, I shall be glad to escort you and Aunt Eliza and the country
cousin anywhere you like during the next few days."
"How good of you, Ralph!" exclaimed Aunt Margaret.
"So good!" chimed Aunt Eliza.
"Good to myself, I should suggest," said Ralph Webster. And then after
one or two vigorous puffs at his pipe he drew it out of his lips for a
moment or two.
"By the by," he said, "how was it you got to know this Mr. Temple? I
forget."
"Oh, my dear," answered Aunt Margaret, with another sudden blush
spreading over her faded skin, which was also reflected on Aunt Eliza's
gentle face, "it was at the time--well, when our dear father was taken
from us, and of course the pecuniary advantages of his living expired
with him. We were thus left very badly off, and had our dear mother to
consider. Therefore, when Mrs. Mason, our dear mother's only sister,
heard of our position she proposed that we should take a house in
town, and bring the furniture up, and--well, try to take in lodgers
or boarders. It was, of course, a great trial to my dear sister and
myself, but we felt it was our duty, and we did it, and Mr. Temple,
who was a much younger man then, stayed with us three years, and we
have regarded him with sincere friendship ever since. He is quite a
gentleman, in word and deed, and it was a pleasure to have him with us,
though, considering poor Aunt Mason's ample means, and that she had
no family of her own, I almost wonder she liked her nieces to receive
strangers under their roof; particularly when she meant to leave us
independent a few years afterward, which she did."
"So this was how you got to know Mr. Temple?" said Ralph Webster, after
listening to Miss Margaret's long explanation. "He's a barrister, you
say, but does not practice? I must look up his name."
"He never practiced; he was well off, but not rich, and then some
months ago he came into a great windfall. A little boy, the heir of the
head of the family, Mr. Temple of Woodlea Hall, was accidentally killed
at football, and Mr. John Temple became the heir of the property, and
when he called the last time he was in town he told us that some day,
if he lived, he would be a very rich man; but his good fortune did not
seem to elate him, did it, Eliza?"
"No, indeed," replied Aunt Eliza, "Mr. Temple is quite above anything
of that kind."
"I wonder where he picked up the country cousin?" said Ralph Webster,
thoughtfully.
"Most probably at his uncle's, the squire of Woodlea. Where do you
think we could take her to-morrow, Ralph?"
"Wait until we see what to-morrow brings forth in the way of weather,"
answered Ralph Webster, and they settled it thus, and shortly afterward
the two sisters retired to rest, and their nephew was left to his
reflections.
The next morning was fine, and when Ralph Webster saw May Churchill by
daylight he decided she was prettier than ever. She had rested well;
she was fresh and fair, and she carried on an animated conversation
with Ralph Webster during the whole of the breakfast time.
"I suppose you row, play tennis, and hunt, and have all sorts of
country occupations?" asked Ralph.
"I play tennis, but I neither row nor hunt," answered May, smiling.
"What! you are not one of those manly young ladies who intend to
annihilate us poor male creatures off the face of the earth, or at
least our occupations and professions?"
"Not quite; but I think it a very good thing that women nowadays can
find occupations and professions for themselves."
"It's not fair to men, it's really not," answered Webster, smiling
also. "Just take my profession, for instance, which I fully expect will
be invaded by the female element in no time. Now I ask you what chance
has a judge to be just, to say nothing of the susceptible bosoms of the
twelve good men in the jury box, when confronted with a lovely creature
in silk pleading the cause of some ruffian? She'd talk them all over.
She'd paint the blackest crimes white, and it would certainly come to
this, that the handsomest female barristers would get all the briefs,
because it would be only too well known that no man could resist them."
"But I thought," said May, who was very much amused, "that before
barristers wear silk that they are not quite so young as they once
were? Suppose, then, an elderly female barrister, with her brow
wrinkled with thought, and her sallow cheeks lined with study, were to
confront the jury, do you think that she would have any more effect
than a man?"
Webster laughed.
"You draw an appalling picture," he said; "for my part I can only
answer I don't think she would."
"Yet you see she would be earning her living; and what can poor women
do?"
"They should marry, and men should work for them."
"But they can't all marry; hundreds of things may prevent them
marrying. I often wish I had been brought up to a profession."
"Please turn your eyes away from mine; I do not wish to be cut out."
"My dear, you are sure to marry," said Aunt Eliza, mildly.
"Nothing is sure, Miss Webster," laughed May, but she blushed so
charmingly at the same time that Ralph Webster felt a new strange
sensation that he did not quite understand.
"The day is lovely," he said, starting up from the breakfast table and
going to the window. "Suppose we all go down the river?"
The expedition was soon settled after this. The river was all new to
May, and its reedy, willowy shores, its shining waters, and placid flow
seemed delightful to her as she sat side by side with Aunt Eliza, or
dipped her little hands into the cool stream.
Ralph Webster was a good oarsman, and presently he insisted that May
should try to learn to row, and began instructing her. The girl was an
apt pupil, and her strong young frame was quite capable of the fatigue.
She enjoyed it, and when Aunt Eliza produced her luncheon basket,
and they rowed in to have lunch, May declared she had never been so
hungry before. Altogether they had a very pleasant day, and returned to
Pembridge Terrace for dinner, where Aunt Margaret awaited them with a
substantial and well-cooked repast.
"The day is not done," said Ralph Webster, when dinner was over; "let
us go to one of the theaters."
His aunts looked at him in mild surprise.
"My dear," they said, almost together, with a slight variation of
words, "Miss Churchill will be tired."
But May declared she was not tired, and her blooming face betokened the
truth of her words. So to one of the theaters they went, though Aunt
Eliza was tired if May was not. And the next day they went somewhere
else, and Ralph Webster suddenly ceased to talk about going on his
holiday. But on the third day of May's stay in Pembridge Terrace Miss
Webster received a letter which caused her to look a little grave.
It was from John Temple, and inclosed a letter for May. And it struck
Miss Webster's simple mind at once to wonder why he should not write to
his "young cousin," as he called her, direct. And something--she knew
not what--induced Miss Webster not to give this letter to May in the
presence of Ralph Webster.
Perhaps she felt that his keen eyes would see more in it than there
really was. At all events she put it into May's hand when they were
alone, and she noticed the quick blush and the glad look with which the
girl received it.
May retired at once with her new letter to her own room, and when she
got there she read as follows in John Temple's handwriting:
"MY DEAR ONE--MY DEAR LITTLE SWEETHEART: I have been thinking of you
so much to-day that I must write. But I think it safer to send it
under cover to dear kind Miss Webster, as one never can tell what
spies there are about, and your disappearance from home has naturally
created a great sensation here. The morning after you left your father
came to Woodlea, and asked to see my uncle, and then me. He questioned
me pretty sharply, and asked when I had last seen you. I risked it,
and said at church, and that you had said nothing to me about leaving
your father's house. Then Mrs. Temple attacked me on the subject, and
finally yesterday I met that brute young Henderson, and I wish you
had seen the desperate look he gave me as he passed me on the road.
They say he drinks heavily, and is altogether going to the bad, and
that he made a frightful scene when he heard you were gone. So you see
altogether we can not be too careful. I dare not in fact leave here
at present, or people--Henderson, and Mrs. Temple I am certain--would
suspect I was going to join you.
"Therefore, my dear one, we must wait a little while yet before I can
go to you. For the reasons I told you of our marriage must be a secret
one for the present, though this is very hard both on you and me. But
I hope you are happy with Miss Webster, and I need not tell you that
the moment I can do so with safety that I will join you, and then we
can be married at once. Brighter days are, I am sure, in store for us,
my Mayflower, but in the meantime when you write will you give your
letters to Miss Webster to inclose to me, as it would not do for your
letters to come here. Always devotedly yours,
JOHN TEMPLE."